Falling to the Light
by ClosingStatement
Summary: Poem from Draco's point of view about the War and his feelings toward Harry. Rated T because of reasons. Warnings: Could be perceived as dark imagery?; Slash (aka Homosexuals). Pairing: Drarry.


This immortal war took so much from me.

My Love was ripped violently from my trembling hands

As the deaths of innocents poured from my wounds,

Washing away the feelings unworthy of the title Malfoy.

A bloodstained face,

With ever-too-trusting eyes gazing up at mine,

Gryffindor courage shining through,

And naïve love rushing up to meet me

Like it did prior to this toxic moment.

Hands reaching up,

For a chance to grab at what they longed to hold once more,

For a salvation from the pain that curled along their body,

And dispersed throughout their very soul,

But I do not see a liberator reaching back.

I do not see the person that held so much of their trust standing before them.

Instead I see a man who had to choose between a love and a life.

Tears did not mingle with wrath

That still flowed freely from my eyes

They were instead caught by a thief in the night.

One that wore a shuddering heart on his sleeve

So that when the world shredded into him,

Looking for a reprieve from their frights,

He dared not be reviled to them

Lest his greatest missing link be found

And dissected into ink on paper that ran for the presses.

In that aspect,

Our goals tangled into one,

And could be seen as a single flame burning

Brighter,

Brighter,

In the distance of a future destined to never be fulfilled.

It was a curse and a blessing to no one

And everyone at the same time

For when we met

Our bodies collided in a hurricane of wands and lips

Grey and Green

Cowardice and cowardice.

Feelings unknown to us came to the surface

And burst forth into a new light that was frightening

And searing.

Suddenly that heart on my bandit's sleeve became like a map to me,

Guiding me to the center of a world so entirely Red

That it startled me and made me weary of a tongue suddenly too sharp

And too tainted for the delicate fruit that it longed to taste.

If it were cut,

Would it bleed for the innocent childen,

The personal gainers,

Or the impish damned?

Would the foul words that flowed from my shriveled heart

Crush the faeries that danced around his eyes,

Lighting him with such life

That, before, I had not thought possible.

Bowed before me,

I saw the cracks in his head,

His heart,

His hands.

They chipped and crumbled as he shivered in my presence,

Fighting to give his reigns over to me

To allow me to pull his strings and paint his face

How I saw fit.

I was the puppet master and he was nothing but my toy,

Dutifully awaiting my command.

I breathed in his essence

And spat back out lies that coated the ground around him,

Covering the gleeful madness in his falling eyes,

He always had a taste for the wickedness that laid within my fingertips.

Poison against fight,

Scales against fur,

Teeth against skin,

With him it was never fair

But always enthralling.

Pushing to the edge of a black abyss and snapping back to sanity wasn't dangerous,

It was a high that we both became addicted to

And itched for whenever away for too long.

Blunted fingernails clawed at frosty skin as a wicked tongue cut blissfully deep,

Releasing the tears of the damned children that were fighting with selfish imps,

And as he arched with screaming peace,

I laid my claim to a man that had a twistedly gorgeous insanity stirring inside a scarred body.

My mind could not comprehend his existence,

So corrupt

Yet so pure,

And soon enough I found that a chunk of my soul had been bitten away,

Until a smirk sized portion was consumed by the same beautiful madness that rested within him.

We were marked by our own desires and addictions,

Condemned to life as prisoners to something that neither of us had ever known,

Yet found within each other's own crooked sneers,

And piercing words.

It seemed fitting that the death of us would be one another.

I struck him down with a curling smile,

While he wrenched me down into the pit of eternal slumber,

Filled with scorching touches,

Fiery eyes,

And the shrieking lunacy that was,

And always will be,

The tears that he stole from deep within the night,

And the bitter taste of his regret that coated my tainted lips.

I fell into a madness that could only be described as The Boy Who Lived,

And it is my hope that I will be consumed by him,

Spiraling into oblivion with only ever-too-trusting eyes gazing up at mine,

Gryffindor courage shining through,

And naïve love rushing up to meet me,

Like it did prior to this final, ending moment.


End file.
